


sweet little lies

by somedaycomesback



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:20:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24896818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somedaycomesback/pseuds/somedaycomesback
Summary: elliot/olivia from kathy's perspective. canon-compliant.
Relationships: Elliot Stabler/Kathy Stabler, Olivia Benson/Elliot Stabler
Comments: 2
Kudos: 51





	sweet little lies

**Author's Note:**

> set from season 1-season 8. in my heart the show ended in season 8, kathy never got pregnant, elliot and olivia got married and had sex like rabbits. and that french hairdresser never touched mariska hargitay's season 1 hair.

1.

Elliot takes the subway to work that morning because it’s grocery day and she needs the car. When she gets home from C-Town, early, and she’s unpacked everything and washed out last night’s leftover dishes and remembered to pick up Maureen’s homecoming dress from the tailor, and it’s all happened before noon, she thinks it’s a sign. She’s going into the city to surprise him for lunch. This is something she often wants to do, in spite of the fact—maybe because of the fact—that it’s tempting fate. He could be on a case, he could be in court, and nothing’s worse than Elliot’s face when he’s choosing the job over her. 

But there’s always something thrilling about these moments too, like they’re finally pulling closer to the conversation when he has to make a real decision, a permanent one, when the fight they’ve had so many times they don’t even bother to change the lines anymore becomes urgent and real and he chooses her. In the end, he will. She understands him well enough to know that. 

So this is a lot of introspection for a woman who just wants to surprise her husband for lunch, she thinks, as she’s idling on the Queensborough bridge behind forty-five minutes of ugly traffic. This is starting to feel like a bad idea. When did her life become this? Five, ten years ago, when the kids were little, they were always tired, half-dead sometimes, but he was right beside her, changing diapers, building Legos, carrying her to their marriage bed when the kids fell asleep. Even when it sucked, they were in it together. Partners. And maybe they married young, and maybe if they hadn’t they would’ve lived exciting, cosmopolitan, separate lives, but during that time, she never paused to regret their marriage. If it was an accident it felt like a lucky one.

These days he gets phone calls from “Liv” at three in the morning. She’s heard it so many times it’s like her least favorite alarm sound: “Yeah, Liv?” She’s never met his new partner, although it’s been nearly two months, and okay, maybe she’s surprising him for lunch for more than one reason. Elliot’s been short on details. He’s taken to responding with two word answers, like “good cop,” “hard-working.” “Professional” was the one that really killed her. What does that even mean? 

She parks and tries to decide where she wants to take him. There’s an Ethiopian place on 87th they went to once, he actually liked it even though he’s not very adventurous. Or the classic, the Italian restaurant in the Village where he took her on one of their first dates as a married couple. Back then it was a splurge. She’s distracted as she gets off the elevator but she notices a brunette with slim shoulders and honest-to-god swinging hips walking in front of her. They make the same turn and the woman goes straight to Elliot’s desk, leans over it so their heads are just a few inches apart, and says something quietly. He looks at her and there’s no other way to describe it, he’s gazing into her eyes. Elliot Stabler does not gaze.

Kathy tries to bolt but Munch has seen her. She never curses. But fuuuuuuuuuck. 

“Mrs. Stabler, what a pleasant surprise,” he says, coming over to clap her shoulder. “Between you and Olivia our squadroom’s feminine appeal has gone up tenfold.”

Elliot stands and gives her a worried look. “Everything okay?” he says. Olivia looks over too, with a mildly interested face. She has short, dark hair, and she’s wearing a button up that’s a little fitted around the bust. Kathy wonders if Olivia’s sizing her up, too. Wishes she’d put on a little more makeup, or actually, maybe she wishes she’d put on a little less. 

God, when Elliot Stabler asked if they could try it without a condom, she did not sign up for this. 

“Everything’s fine,” she says. “I—I thought you might want to grab lunch.” 

He gives her that apologetic look, starts to say something, but then Olivia cuts in. “Go on, El,” she says casually. “Munch’ll come with me to see Mrs. Webber.”

“I resent being volunteered but in this case, happily accept,” says Munch. “Anything for the chance to spend the afternoon with you, Detective Benson.” Olivia laughs and points a little finger gun at his heart. She's cute.

Then Elliot has no choice, he nods, grabs his suit jacket, the one she pressed last night. And Kathy suddenly feels angrier than ever, because if it’s that easy for him to rearrange his work, why doesn’t he do it more often? And if it’s that easy, why did Liv have to do it for him? 

He steps towards Kathy but then he turns back, remembers something about Mrs. Webber to tell Olivia, and as he does, he puts his hand on her elbow. It’s not the physical contact, it’s the way he looks right back at Kathy as he does it, guilty, like he forget she was there and he’s assessing the damage, and worst of all, Olivia looks too, as if she and Elliot know the same secret.

Fourteen years of marriage and she’d never felt lonelier than in that moment. 

“Really nice to meet you, Kathy,” Olivia says, and god, she looks like she means it.

They eat at the shitty diner across the street from the station and don’t say much of anything at all. 

2.

She and Elliot go into the city to see a show with some friends. It’s been ages since they’ve done something like this. Elliot doesn’t love the theater, but she does, and she wears her diamond drop earrings and the blue dress that used to make him sweat. These days he just looks at his watch and says they’re gonna be late, which isn’t even true, they’ve got an hour to spare. But she isn’t going to let that ruin their night. In the car she puts on the classic rock she knows he likes and she gets him to sing Stairway to Heaven with her. When he was young, he wanted to be a rock star. Even bought a guitar, though he never learned to play. She’s probably the only person on earth who knows that. 

She’s starting to have a good time when Elliot makes a turn away from the theater district. 

“Uh, we just have to make a quick stop,” he says. “I promised Liv I’d give her a ride home from the gym.”

“What?” 

“There’s been a string of stranger rapes in the area,” he says, in that voice he uses when he’s trying to convince her she’s overreacting, “It’s five minutes away.” 

Was he actually trying to get her to leave him? 

They park by a Gold’s Gym. Kathy is speechless. He slams the radio off and pulls out his pager to send Olivia a message. It’s so dead silent she can actually hear the sound of his watch ticking.

Olivia jogs out, sweaty and pink faced and gorgeous, a duffle bag slung over her shoulder. God, her arms are like marble. She makes for the passenger door and then jolts back when she sees Kathy, and Kathy realizes she didn’t know, either. They both look at Elliot and he’s making this face like he wants to disappear. 

Olivia slides into the backseat with her bag, like she’s their daughter and they’re picking her up from soccer practice. 

“Hey, Kathy!” she says, trying to be casual. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, Olivia,” Kathy says, trying to be exactly as civil as she is. Not an inch more. There’s no winning this game but at least she's going to try.

“So, you guys having a date night?” Olivia asks, reaching back to retie her ponytail, and game over, Kathy Stabler is pissed.

“We were,” she says, with the bitchiest smile she can muster. And Kathy was popular in high school, so that’s pretty frickin’ bitchy. Olivia wisely says nothing else, although Kathy catches her cheeks turning bright red in the rearview mirror. Elliot’s sweating so much he might actually have to change into the spare shirt he keeps in the trunk. 

“So, Olivia, you seeing anyone these days?” Kathy asks. Olivia makes eye contact with her in the mirror like she knows exactly what she’s doing. Her face is enigmatic and for a second Kathy's worried she's going to call her on it

“Yes, actually,” Olivia says brightly, the disapproval flickering out of her face. “His name is Jeff.” And Kathy realizes Olivia wants to play along.

“Tell me everything,” she says and they spend the next ten minutes discussing Jeff's job, the dates he’s taken her on, and in very specific detail, his best physical attributes. Jeff sounds like a lovely man. 

Elliot doesn’t say a word. When they get to Olivia’s apartment, Kathy waves.

“So good to see you, Olivia. I’m so happy for you.”

“You too, Kathy. Thanks for the ride.” 

“Blink your lights,” Elliot says half-heartedly, although as soon as she’s through the door he revs the engine and bolts. Kathy's smirking, thinking that was the most fun she had in weeks, and then in one second that feeling shatters, like a flower vase tipped over a table, and she feels the shards dragging through her insides. Because the joke was, her husband couldn’t stand to hear another woman talking about someone else. 

“In another life, Olivia and I might’ve been good friends,” she says. Elliot just drives.

3.

Elliot comes home and he’s pissed. And he smells like bourbon. Kathy’s on the couch with Lizzie reading Architectural Digest and thinking about living somewhere out west, in a ranch-style house with big windows, when he slams open the front door.

She doesn’t even say anything. Why bother, he doesn’t want to talk. He’s coming home like this more and more often, although the alcohol is new. He goes to the kitchen and puts the plate she left for him in the microwave, grumbling about the spinach, and then he starts shoveling food in his face like an actual dog. 

“Sweetheart, why don’t you go upstairs?” she says to Lizzie. She watches her daughter running up the stairs in her pink dress, so young and blonde and sweet. And she feels so old. 

Lately she’s been looking at herself in the mirror more. Touching her face, looking at her eyes and her chin and her neck. She’s thirty-nine years old. She doesn’t want to admit it, but the question she’s asking herself is, if she leaves him, will anyone still want her? 

It’s a terrible thing to think, and it makes her feel guilty and vain. Still.

Olivia’s her age exactly, and she dates plenty of men. And women, from what she hears lately. But then Olivia never had four kids. Not to mention she goes to the gym every day, literally. It’s funny, she’s been trying to get Elliot to tell her about his partner for years and that’s the detail he chooses. What a special man.

She goes upstairs and eventually Elliot follows, flinging off his tie and leaving it where it falls. 

“Hey,” she says. 

“I don’t want to talk.” 

“Clearly,” she says. “Can you give me one word about why you’re upset?”

“Don’t patronize me,” he says.

“Don’t yell at me,” she says. “I’m fucking sick of it.” That gets his attention. But she glares at him and finally he sits on the bed beside her. His eyes are bloodshot. He looks old, too.

“What happened?”

He turns his face to the side, like he’s been slapped. “Just—this case—he said-she said, and Liv's really pissed with me.”

“You had a fight with Olivia?” she says, in a concerned voice, one hand on his shoulder. Then it hits her. She's sitting on her marriage bed trying to make her husband feel better about an argument he had with the woman he loves. She pulls her hand away from him like she’s been burned. There’s something rising in her throat and for a second she feels like she's going to vomit, so she runs to the bathroom. The door slams shut behind her and she opens the mirror cabinet and swipes her hand over the shelf violently, so all the pill bottles and toothbrushes and cleansers fall out. And nobody’s gonna clean up her mess. She doesn’t have that luxury. 

It's another year before she works up the nerve, that’s the night she knows she's going to leave him. 

4\. 

It takes her nine years, but she finally calls Olivia Benson. They meet in Central Park. Olivia’s wearing the leather jacket Kathy always thought looked butch, but her hair is longer and she’s wearing earrings and she looks undeniably good. You win, Kathy almost says.

“You want me to convince him to sign the divorce papers,” Olivia says when she realizes.

“You’re his partner. You give him stability,” Kathy says. Olivia nods. She’s been hostile the whole conversation, and Kathy wonders why, when, by all accounts, Olivia has what she’s always wanted: Elliot Stabler, a free man at last. She wonders if they’ve slept together already. Is this what divorce is going to feel like? Wondering if her husband’s finally found happiness with the love of his life? God, she hopes not. 

They walk around aimlessly for another five minutes. They have nothing to talk about, nothing in common except Elliot. She wants to give permission, but she can’t. She wants to be the kind of Christian who looks at the woman her husband fell in love with and says, it’s okay. Be happy. For you and for him. 

The thing is, Elliot sees Olivia as a saint. They may fight and yell, revolve around each other like little volcanos ready to explode, but at the end of the day, she’s untouchable to him. And Kathy, although she’s not completely disinterested, she sees Olivia through clearer eyes. She sees Olivia’s darkness and her brutishness and rudeness. And she sees that, at the end of the day, Olivia might think she’s high and mighty for never cheating with Elliot, for all those monkish years of pent-up desire, but she never really left either. She never pulled away. And Kathy can’t forgive that.

All she can muster is a frosty, “Good luck, Olivia.”

“You too.”

Elliot sends her the papers that night.

5.

The morning after she sleeps with Elliot, she wakes up with a headache. Like a battering ram in her head. The sex was good, better than it had been in the last five years of their marriage. But he was quieter than usual, like his head was somewhere else. She tries not to think too hard about that. She goes downstairs and makes breakfast and Kathleen is giving her this look like she knows exactly what her middle-aged parents did last night. Great.

She and Elliot don’t talk for a month. He comes to pick up the kids on his weekends, nods at her, waves goodbye, does his best to avoid making eye contact. She can see in his face he regrets it. She wonders if he’s told Olivia about it. Probably not. That gives her a minute of satisfaction. 

She doesn’t get her period that month and she wonders if it’s menopause. God, as if going through a divorce wasn’t enough. But the second missed period makes her panic, a sick feeling and she wants to throw up, and wait, why does she want to throw up? She drives twenty minutes to a CVS where no one will recognize her and buys three pregnancy tests, to be sure. Each one comes out positive. She throws them in the bathroom wastebasket and then realizes she can’t leave them there, she has to take out the trash. So she picks up the little bathroom trash bag, and the kitchen trash while she’s at it, and remember when she had a husband to do this for her. Well, when he was home.

Outside the air is muggy. Across the street a couple of kids are drawing a hopscotch grid in their driveway. Once when Maureen and Kathleen were small, Elliot spent an afternoon drawing scenes from the Little Mermaid for them outside their house. He’s a fantastic artist, does Olivia know that? Of course, the afternoon had ended when one of the girls walked all over King Triton with her muddy sneakers and he exploded, grabbed his jacket and keys and didn’t come home for two hours. His anger, that’s one thing she’s never learned to miss.

She sits down hard and wonders how the hell she’s gone twenty-five years without learning a damn thing.

The thing is, she shouldn’t feel guilty, but she does. She didn’t force Elliot to sleep with her and she didn’t force him not use a condom. But she could feel it, the moment when Elliot stopped resisting the divorce and started imagining his life without her, and god, it scared her, made their separation more real than it had been in the three years they were apart. So she asked him to stay the night. Maybe she thought he’d wake up and remember to forever.

She doesn’t know what to do so she calls up her mom. Doesn’t mention the pregnancy, even though she wants to. God, how is it possible that she’s forty-three and pregnant and feels worse than when she was seventeen and pregnant? 

Carol never liked Elliot. The first time he came around, seventeen years old, with smoldering eyes and that motorcycle jacket, she said to Kathy, “The boy is bad news.” Which if anything, made him more attractive. She almost starts to cry when she hears her mother’s voice. It’s her mother she’s been leaning on these past four years, her house she stayed in and her shoulder she cried on. Elliot used to be her partner, but Carol took up the role the best she could. 

She chit chats about the weather and Dickie’s latest baseball drama for a few minutes before she realizes this isn’t what she needs. Actually, she needs her husband. Ex-husband.

She doesn’t know if she can take twenty more years of watching him come home late and come home angry and say Olivia’s name in his sleep. But she can’t do this alone, either. And, god, after everything, she loves that man. She hadn’t wanted to say it, or think it, not ever again, but she just does. She just loves him like Olivia just loves him. They can’t help it. They have the same affliction.

She picks up her keys. It’s five o’clock on a weekend, so she’s pretty sure he’s at work. She drives into the city and parks and screams in the car with the windows rolled up just to get herself going, and then she goes in.

She walks into the middle of a tense moment between Elliot and Olivia, because of course she does, but this isn’t about that. 

“I need to speak with you.” 

He looks at her like she’s speaking another language. But he leads her to the locker room, and she looks around at the green door and the peeling paint and the battered punching bag and god, if she had to pick a place to tell her ex-husband she was pregnant it would not be here. But if she doesn’t say it now she doesn’t know how she ever will.

“I need you to come home now, Elliot. Not for the kids. For me,” she says. He’s looking at her with an expression she can’t read. It’s definitely not, “I’ve been begging you to take me fact for half a decade and finally you are.”

“I’m pregnant.” 

And he looks at her like his heart is breaking. Probably it is. But he walks over, each step slow and heavy, like he’s wearing ankle weights, and wraps her in his arms. For a second she thinks, maybe this baby will bring them together, and maybe he’ll quit his job and start taking out the trash and stop loving Olivia. He tightens his arms around her and she lets herself believe it.


End file.
